The Lions, the Witch and the Closet
by Bottle Red Rosie
Summary: Niko really hated closets. A series of flashbacks to the Leandros brothers' traumatic childhood. Niko POV. Non-canon compliant (but could be!) Extended oneshot. Warnings for implied and non-graphic abuse of minors.


**Rating:** M  
 **Words:** 19,700  
 **Spoilers:** Minor spoilers for everything.  
 **Warnings:** Cal language. Implied and non-graphic abuse of minors.  
 **Summary:** Niko really hated closets.  
 **Disclaimer:** Everything is owned by someone else.  
 **A/N:** A vague follow up to a previous fic, Unchangeable, with Niko filling in the gaps in Cal's childhood memories. You don't need to have read that one to follow this one. Kind of a 'what if' story supposing Sophia might have been an even worse mother than we already know her to have been. Could be canon compliant, but most likely AU.

 **The Lions, the Witch and the Closet**

"Well this brings back memories," Cal said, and I could see the white of his teeth in the light slanting through the horizontal door slats as he threw me an amused grin.

"It does," I agreed, somewhat less cheerfully than my little brother.

He nudged me with his elbow and snickered like a six-year-old. "C'mon, Nik," he said cajolingly. "We've had some great times hiding out in closets!"

I frowned at him, although he probably couldn't see that in the dinginess of our cramped surroundings. "Name me one time we had a great time hiding out in a closet?" I challenged him, elbowing him right back. "At least when we were younger we had a little more room to spare."

The closet we currently found ourselves squashed into belonged to Robin and he'd shoved us in here with the solemn promise not to come out until he told us to, on pain of death.

Or until the threat to our virtue had passed, at the very least.

It wasn't the first time we'd found ourselves in the puck's condo just as a group of his more "social" friends had descended on him with thoughts of an impromptu orgy.

It wasn't fun being stuck in here while a large group of sweating, grunting men, women, and other things we sometimes couldn't identify had their very noisy, energetic way with each other just a few feet beyond a very flimsy louvre door.

Still. Better to be in here than out there. If Robin was anything to go by, Cal might escape unscathed, but I wasn't convinced I would share the same fate. Robin had a serious thing for blonds which he seemed to share with many, if not all, of his "sleepover" acquaintances, and I preferred to keep my clothes on and my honor intact.

"C'mon," Cal continued, and it wasn't as if we had to keep our voices down with the noises of ecstasy and elation coming from beyond the door. "Remember that place in—where was it? Nebraska, maybe? Where the closet had that extra hidden room at the back that you convinced me led to Narnia?"

I smiled minutely at the memory. Cal had been four and had made me read him that book every night for a year. "Had it _actually_ led to Narnia," I replied, "I agree, that would have been fun. As it was it led to the previous occupant's gigantic porn stash and, no doubt, the place where he would have gone on to murder numerous young men and women had he not choked to death on a Krispy Kreme."

It was Cal's turn to frown. "There was a porn stash back there? And you never told me?"

"You were four, Cal," I replied, ducking involuntarily as something hit the closet door just above my head. It might have been a boot. Or possibly a person.

I began to suspect the latter when fingertips suddenly appeared to be gripping the slats above me for dear life and an apparently anguished male voice started to pour forth a litany of Greek curse words.

I was really glad Cal didn't understand Greek. If he heard what the young man hanging onto the door was begging his "friend" to do to him, it might have made even my little brother blush.

It was at that point I realized the "friend" was Robin, who absolutely knew where we were hiding, and appeared to have steered the young Greek-speaker deliberately in our direction.

"It's a crying shame not all beautiful blond boys such as yourself appreciate my many talents, Enzo," I heard him say, an unspoken, "Look what you're missing out on, Niko," aimed pointedly in my direction.

I grit my teeth and made sure to brace the closet doors as Robin and Enzo continued to enjoy each other's company against them.

Cal sniggered at my obvious discomfort. "You should just give in to him and get it over with," he told me, and I hoped for his sake his was joking.

"Contrary to what you might think, little brother," I responded, "changing one's sexual orientation isn't like changing from using a 9mm to a .45."

Cal grinned again. "Robin swears you're the only straight guy he's never managed to turn," he informed me.

"Long may that continue," I replied, as Goodfellow and his friend finally decided to move their liaison to somewhere more comfortable. Possibly atop the pile of writhing bodies currently squirming around on Robin's satin sheets.

I shuddered, despite myself.

"You used to keep crayons and paper in the closet," Cal said suddenly, and I think I almost got whiplash from the non-sequitur. He must have seen the confused expression on my face, and added, "To keep me occupied. If it took Sophia a long time to finally pass out. Or her 'friends' a long time to get lost."

I remembered those times, and, contrary to what Cal might think, those were not happy memories. Not at all.

I wasn't claustrophobic.

I just didn't like closets.

"You always made me feel safe," he continued, a little more wistfully. "Even when we weren't."

I didn't reply, just tried not to listen to what was going on outside in case it made me remember hearing similar sounds years earlier, hiding in a similar closet to this one, when there wasn't anybody there to make _me_ feel safe.

It didn't work.

* * *

I wasn't sure if the man was hurting her.

She was screaming like he was, but then she was laughing and he was saying bad words to her.

I knew they were bad words because Mrs. O'Shaughnessy in the trailer next door said they were.

"I can hear you, you filthy whore!" she'd scream at my mother as we passed her doorway.

I was pretty sure that was a bad word too because I once saw Sophia stick a knife in a guy's leg when he called her that.

He was one of her "friends" as well, so I don't know why he used that word about her.

She told me I wasn't to use those bad words or she would tan my hide. I wasn't sure what that meant, but figured it would probably hurt.

I didn't like it when she hurt me.

So I sat in the closet when she was being mean, when she'd been drinking the funny-smelling stuff, and, most especially when her "friends" visited.

She had lots of friends. I hardly ever saw the same one twice.

This one had been here a couple of times before. Last time he came over, he looked at me funny, which was why Sophia had told me to stay in the closet today.

"She wants a kid," he said suddenly, after they'd finished hurting each other.

Sophia didn't say anything.

"We can't have 'em though. Think it's her, not me."

Sophia still didn't say anything.

The guy coughed. "You got a kid, right?" When Sophia still didn't say anything, he asked, "How old?"

Sophia finally replied. "Little bastard's four, going on forty," she said.

The man snorted. "Four, huh?" he echoed. "Dad in the picture?"

"Took off. With any luck he's dead by now."

They were quiet for a minute, then the guy said, "You don't strike me like the maternal type."

Sophia grunted. "I'd leave the little shit on the side of the curb if I thought anyone would want him."

I could hear the guy breathing. "Young enough to not have gotten too attached," he said. "To you."

"He was a clingy little bastard at first," Sophia said. "Soon beat _that_ out of him."

My legs hurt when I remembered.

"So…" the guy said, and his voice sounded kind of funny. "You wouldn't miss him? If he was gone, I mean?"

Sophia didn't say anything for the longest time. "What're you asking me?"

The man paused. "You know what I'm asking you. Wife wants a kid."

"How much?" she asked. She sounded like when she was trying to get the people in the carnival to give her their money.

"Hundred bucks," the guy said finally.

"For my _kid_?" Sophia snorted. "You're kidding, right?"

"Three hundred."

"Gimme a grand and he's yours."

They were silent for a second. "Seven hundred. Final offer."

Sophia went quiet again, before finally saying, "Show me the money first."

There was a rustling sound, and my mom laughed.

"Something tells me you've been thinking about this for a while."

"He's mine, right? I can take him?"

I heard more rustling, and bed springs, and then the closet door opened and my mom reached in and grabbed my arm.

"C'mon you little brat," she said. "Daddy's here."

The guy was fastening up his pants. He didn't have a shirt on and had lots of drawings on his chest like the one on Sophia's shoulder. I knew he wasn't my daddy. I didn't have a daddy. Sophia told me so.

He was looking at me as he pulled on his shirt. "What's your name, kid?" he asked.

I glanced at Sophia who had told me not to talk to strangers, and she nodded.

"Niko," I said. I didn't tell him my last name because I always got it wrong when I tried to say it and Sophia would laugh at me.

He nodded. "C'mon then, Nicky," he said, taking hold of my arm. "Let's go meet your new mom."

I looked at Sophia again, but she wasn't looking at me. She was counting a pile of money on the dresser.

"I already have a mom," I said, because that was true. Sophia had told me so and I believed her.

The guy laughed. "Yeah, well," he said. "Things change, kid. Now come the hell on."

He started to pull me towards the trailer door, but I yelled and kicked him in the knee until he let go of me. I ran to Sophia, but she pushed me away from her without saying anything.

"You're some cold-hearted bitch, you know that?" the man said, and I was pretty sure that was a bad word too.

"Get out of my trailer," my mom said. "Take him with you and don't come back."

The guy laughed before picking me up when I started to scream again. "Shut the hell up, kid," he said, wrenching open the trailer door.

Sophia lit a cigarette as we left. "You even _have_ a wife?" she asked.

The guy laughed. "Later, sweetheart."

* * *

I was trying very hard not to cry. Sophia yelled at me when I cried and I was scared the man would too.

His car smelled funny and I wanted to go home.

"So, four, huh?" he said, making the car go faster. I couldn't see my mom's trailer anymore. "Big boy, huh, Nicky?"

"My name's Niko," I told him. "Not Nicky."

He looked sideways at me. "Yeah, well it's Nicky now," he said. "Get used to it."

I didn't say anything, but I felt a big fat tear roll down my cheek and was scared he might hit me because I was crying.

He didn't hit me, just reached out and stroked my hair, which somehow seemed a lot worse. "I'm Don," he said. "Donny."

I blinked up at him. My eyelashes were all stuck together.

"You're gonna like your new mom."

I swallowed. It was hard to talk, but I did it because I wanted to show Sophia I was brave. "What's her name?"

The guy—Donny—blinked back at me. "Uh," he said. "Mom."

I didn't think I believed him, but I didn't say that. Sophia's name was Sophia, not "Mom." She didn't like it when I called her "Mom."

I could see lights up ahead, and I was pretty sure it was that place with the hamburgers Stinky Joe had taken me to once.

"I'm hungry," I said, even though I wasn't. I didn't want to be in Donny's car no more.

He looked at me and sighed. "You want a burger?"

I nodded. Although I didn't really want a burger. I knew I wasn't supposed to lie, but I didn't want to be in his car.

Sophia lied all the time. She lied like crazy, that's what Stinky Joe said. Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said lying was bad and that my mom would go to Hell.

I didn't know what Hell was but figured it was probably worse than the carnival.

There were lots of cars in the parking lot when Donny opened the door and let me out, but I couldn't see Stinky Joe's. It was red and had a white stripe down it like that one on old TV.

I was sad because Stinky Joe would have seen me and taken me home.

I started to cry again and a lady with lots of kids looked over at me.

"You okay, honey?" she asked me, but she was looking up at Donny.

I shook my head, but Donny said, "Missing his mom. On our way home to her now."

I didn't really like Sophia, but I kind of wished that was true. At least when she hurt me I could usually tell when she was going to do it.

I didn't know whether Donny wanted to hurt me or not.

The lady didn't look convinced. "Maybe I should call someone…" she started to say, but Donny just smiled brightly at her.

"Don't worry," he said, picking me up again, even though I really didn't want him to. "Everything's okay, right, Nicky?"

"My name's Niko," I said again, wiping my face on the sleeve of my shirt, which rolled up and I think the lady saw where my arm was all purple from Sophia yesterday.

Donny pulled my sleeve down and shoved me back in the car. He smiled again at the lady before jumping in next to me.

"Little shit," he mumbled. "I'll show you hungry."

We drove away and the lady ran inside the burger shop with all her little children running after her.

"You did that on purpose," Donny said, and he was angry. "Sophia said you were too smart for your own good. Four going on forty. If we get pulled over by the cops, I'm gonna—" he never got to tell me what he was going to do because a Police car came past us with its blue lights on and I knew it was a Police car because I'd seen them on TV and Sophia told me if I saw one in real life I should run away and tell her because Police people were bad.

I didn't believe her that Police people were bad because the TV said they were good and looked after little kids whose moms were mean.

Donny said lots of bad words as he stopped the car. He told me I was a "little shit" again and that he was going to break my arm. Sophia had once said that too and I knew it would hurt so didn't want him to do that.

I didn't say I was sorry though.

The Policeman was very angry with Donny. He asked him lots of questions and then he asked me my name.

"Niko Le-and-drers," I said, but I wasn't sure that sounded quite right.

"And who's this you're with, Niko?"

I shrugged. "His name's Donny," I said. "But I don't know if that's true. He's my mom's friend."

"Where's your mom, honey?"

"We live in the carnival," I told the Policeman. "Can I go home now? I don't like this car."

A Police lady came to talk to the Policeman then. Her radio was talking and then I heard her say a word I didn't understand and hadn't heard before and the Policeman straightaway opened the car door and pulled me out.

He picked me up like Donny had, but I wasn't scared when the Policeman did it.

"Come on, son," he said. "Let's get you home."

"I get to ride in a Police car?" I asked.

He nodded as he carried me away from Donny.

The Police lady was very, _very_ angry with Donny. She put those metal bracelets on him. Sophia had some of those, but she said they were just play ones.

I'd seen her in real ones once, though. The Policeman was angry at _her_ that time.

The Police car was fun, the Policeman, who said his name was Charlie, let me put the blue lights and the noisy things on. I can't remember what he called them. We went back to the Police station, and he bought me hot chocolate and then a lady came to talk to me who was a bit scary because she said she was from "Family Services" and Sophia said they were Bad. Not Bad like the Police people. But Bad. Maybe Badder.

She asked me lots of questions. Mostly about my mom and my dad. I said I didn't have a dad. She asked me if I had any brothers or sisters and I said no, but I would like a baby brother please. That made her smile. She asked me if Sophia hurt me and I shook my head like Sophia had told me to if anyone ever asked me that, but I didn't say "no" because that would have been lying, and Mrs. O'Shaughnessy said I would go to Hell if I lied and Hell would be worse than the carnival and I'd never get a baby brother if I went there.

She asked me about my purple arm and I said I fell over and hurt it.

That was lying.

I was scared I was going to go to Hell.

But then Sophia was there, and she was crying, and she was hugging me, and she told the lady and Charlie that she'd been so worried, that I'd wandered off at the carnival and she couldn't find me and someone told her they'd seen a man put me in his car.

Sophia was _definitely_ going to Hell because she lied _a lot_.

It felt funny when she hugged me.

She'd never hugged me before and I wasn't sure what to do.

I wanted her to mean it, but I knew she didn't really.

The Family Services lady spoke to Sophia for a long time while I played with Charlie. He had crayons and he asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up. I said I wanted to be a Policeman and look after little kids and he said he thought that was a good idea.

Charlie seemed angry with the Family Services lady when she said Sophia could take me home.

Charlie hugged me too, and I knew he meant it. It was nice and he said he'd come check on me tomorrow.

I knew I wouldn't get to see Charlie tomorrow.

Sophia didn't say anything to me all the way home. She let me sit on her lap in the Police car, though, which was something else I'd never done before. But when we got inside our trailer, she was really, really mad with me. She twisted my arm and told me I was stupid, and why couldn't I just do as I was told? But at least she had the money, even if she still had to put up with me.

Maybe she should pull that con again. Get a grand for me next time.

And then she put all her stuff in a bag, and she said we were moving, but she had a good mind to leave me here by myself.

She left my things behind. All my pictures and my crayons and the stuffed dog Mrs. O'Shaughnessy gave me once when she was being nice and not saying curse words at my mom.

The next place we stayed at didn't have a closet, so she shut me in the basement. And that was worse because there were spiders and it was dark.

* * *

"You remember that place with the—thing?" Cal asked.

I blinked at him, rubbing at my arm where I remembered that guy—Donny—grabbing it.

I'd forgotten about Donny.

They say you don't start to make memories until you're four or five, and that must have been one of my earliest.

If I closed my eyes I could still remember how Donny's car smelled.

Pretty much how Robin's bedroom smelled right now.

"You're going to have to be more specific," I told my brother, my eyes still closed as I tried to remember what Charlie the Policeman had looked like. I kept coming up with William Shatner, and I was pretty sure I was remembering an episode of _TJ Hooker_.

Life before Cal had come along was pretty much like that in my memory. A blur of old TV shows that Sophia used to leave me to watch while she ran her scams or entertained her gentleman callers. Sometimes it got to the point where Cal would be watching some old re-run and I'd realize something I'd thought was a memory was actually an old episode of _MacGyver_.

When it came to Donny, though, I knew that had really happened. I just hadn't wanted to ever admit that my mother had tried to sell me when I was four years old. Possibly to a pedophile. I guess I'd never know for sure.

I didn't remember ever telling Cal about that.

"The thing," Cal repeated. "You remember."

"I really don't," I told him.

"That stuffed thing with the red eyes that you kept hiding in the closet because you said it was watching you."

Red eyes. Closets. Screaming.

I didn't remember the stuffed thing.

But I remembered the screaming.

* * *

My mom was screaming.

I'd heard her scream a lot when she had her friends around, but never anything like this.

She shut me in the closet all the time when I was littler, but now I went there by myself, just to get away.

Today, though, she had grabbed me by my wrist and dragged me here, shoved me inside and told me that if I came out the monster would eat me and I should stay here until she came to get me.

For once, she didn't seem mad at me. She actually seemed…worried. Scared, even. Maybe even for me.

"Don't look at the monster, Niko," she'd said. "Don't look."

I had, though.

I'd looked.

The trailer only had one room. It had a little kitchen and a table and one bed. There was a littler room in the corner with a toilet. My mom slept in the bed. Sometimes she let me sleep in the bed too, but mostly I slept on the floor, or on the chair near the table. She called me "good doggy" when I slept on the floor, and I thought that was a stupid thing for her to say because I wasn't a doggy, I was a little boy.

The only place to hide—besides the toilet, which, _gross_ —was the closet. I didn't like the closet because it reminded me of Donny. But I still had to come in here when Sophia had her friends around because she said they didn't want a little kid hanging around watching.

I could still watch from the closet, but I didn't because it was stupid. Sophia was stupid and I knew I was a lot smarter than she was, even when she told me I was dumb. So I read books. Or I looked at them. The guy a couple trailers down was throwing a big stack of them out to Goodwill, but he said I could take some if I wanted.

I took one called _The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe_. He told me that's what it was called because I didn't read so good yet, but I liked to look at the pictures. There was a lion on the cover, which I liked a lot. I liked lions. I saw them on TV and they were strong and didn't let anything hurt them.

I wanted to be a lion when I grew up.

So I looked at the pictures of Aslan—that was this particular lion's name—and I waited for Sophia's friend to go away.

But it wasn't like always.

He made weird noises. Like broken glass speaking. And when Sophia screamed, she _really_ screamed, so loud and so hard that I knew he was _really_ hurting her, not like her other friends.

And so I looked. Even though she told me not to.

It had red eyes.

I think it saw me, or smelled me, even though I was good at hiding.

Its red eyes turned to look at me the second I peered through the wooden slats on the closet door. Like it had known I was there all along.

I knew it was an "it" not a "he" like Sophia's other friends.

She had called it a monster and I believed her.

It had spiky white hair, and when it turned to look at me, it hissed, and I saw lots and lots of metal needles where it's teeth ought to be.

It was on top of Sophia and she was screaming so loud I thought it was going to kill her.

I didn't like Sophia, but she told me if she died, or if I ran away, they'd make me live with a man like Donny who would make me do things and hurt me.

I wondered if I should try to get help, and although it had been a long time and two places we lived away, I wished I could find Charlie the Policeman again. He'd help. I knew he would.

When the monster stopped looking at me it did something to Sophia and she stopped screaming. Her eyes were closed, but I didn't think she was asleep.

The monster climbed down off of her and started to crawl toward me, it's red eyes on the same level as mine.

I thought maybe I would scream too, but there was only Sophia to hear me and she wasn't awake.

It came right up to the closet door, putting its red eyes against the gap between the slats, and it stared at me.

It made the broken glass noise again, but I thought I heard it say, "Brother," and then it turned away and was gone through the trailer window so fast I wasn't sure I actually saw it move.

I sat in the closet a long time after it had gone, hoping Sophia would wake up because I was shaking really hard and couldn't move my legs. I was breathing fast and I felt dizzy, like my head was full of cotton candy.

I wanted Sophia to wake up.

I wanted her to come get me.

I wanted her to hug me and mean it.

I wanted her to yell at me for crying, and I couldn't seem to stop crying because the monster had been so...

I'd been afraid a lot of times, but I didn't think I'd ever been as afraid of anything as I was of the monster.

I would never be a lion.

Eventually, I stopped shaking enough so that I could move my legs.

I crawled out of the closet, but was scared to stand up in case the monster was watching and came back to eat me.

Stinky Joe had always said monsters weren't real, but he was _wrong_ and now I knew it.

I managed to crawl over to the bed where Sophia was lying, and up onto the covers so I was next to her.

I could hear her breathing, so knew she wasn't dead because dead things didn't breathe, I knew that. I was glad because I didn't want to go live with someone like Donny who wanted to hurt me.

But her eyes were still closed and there was blood all over her.

I pulled down her dress to try and hide some of it because I didn't think the monster should have left her that way. There was blood all over her legs and in hair and on her face and on the pink sheet underneath her. I tried to use the sheet to wipe some of it away, but I knew I wasn't supposed to touch her and thought she would yell at me if she woke up and caught me.

Her face was wet and I thought it was the first time I'd seen her cry.

I wiped the tears away from her face and tried to decide what to do next. Maybe I should go get help. But who to ask? Our neighbors all used that horrible word when they saw her, so I wasn't sure they'd help us.

I took her hand instead and shook it a little bit to see if that would wake her up, but it didn't and she was so cold.

I went back to the closet to get the blanket and put it over her to keep her warm till she woke up. I'd seen them do that on TV in the hospital shows.

Then I laid down next to her to wait.

I don't think I went to sleep, but the next thing I knew, Sophia was awake and looking at me.

I was still holding her hand and was scared she would be mad.

I don't think she was mad, but I'd never seen her look at me the way she was looking at me now.

She put her hand in my hair and told me I was a good boy.

Then she left.

I don't know where she went.

She could hardly even stand up.

She didn't come back till much, much later. A whole daytime had gone and it was night again.

I was hungry and bored, and the trailer smelled bad from all the blood.

She opened the door and stood there looking at me.

She had on a different dress and the blood was all gone from her face and her arms and her legs and her hair was clean.

But she smelled like the nasty stuff she drank.

She knelt down next to me and took hold of my chin. I was scared what she would do, but she just looked at me. Then she smiled. But it wasn't a nice smile. Not like a Christmas morning smile or a summer smile.

I remembered the monster's metal teeth and started to tremble again.

"You got your wish, kid," she said, and she stroked my cheek, but not in a nice way. "You're gonna get that baby brother you always wanted. Your own pet monster. What do you think about that?"

I thought, at least I won't be alone anymore.

And I smiled back at her.

* * *

"Jesus, aren't they _ever_ gonna be done?" Cal sighed.

I'd drifted off into meditation when I'd found myself thinking about... _things_ I really didn't want to be thinking about, so hadn't had the chance to get as bored as Cal obviously had.

The meditation wasn't really helping, either. I was still thinking about things I didn't want to be thinking about, a cold sweat prickling the back of my neck when I thought about Sophia and the Auphe and Cal's conception.

It wasn't something I deliberately thought about often, but when I did it always came back to me in full digital 3D surround sound.

I could still hear the sound of Sophia screaming and the thing on top of her… Cal's father…

I think it was laughing.

I swallowed hard.

"You okay, Nik?" Cal asked me suddenly. "You look kinda green, man."

I shrugged, which only made me realize how tightly my muscles had bunched across my shoulders. I tried to relax them, but for some reason relaxation was not to be had.

It suddenly dawned on me what I was doing and I mentally told myself to stop it. Right now.

When I'd hide in the closet as a kid, I'd try and make myself as small as I could by bunching my shoulders up around my ears and wrapping my arms around my knees.

I wasn't doing that now.

I _wasn't_.

I hated closets.

* * *

"Keep him quiet," Sophia hissed, bundling me into the closet.

I pulled Cal in with me because she wouldn't ever touch him.

She grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at her. "I oughtta let them take the both of you," she hissed. "Too lazy and slow and _stupid_ to know when to run away."

She was hurting me and I knew there'd be new bruises to explain at school tomorrow. If she let me go.

"How many times?" she growled, glancing behind her through the trailer window at the sound of a car pulling up outside. "How many times have I told you?"

"I—I didn't know it was Family Services—" I started to protest, but she grabbed my hair and yanked my head back.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Cal looking up at me, his eyes all big and scared.

"That's because you're too stupid to know _anything_ ," she told me. "You two are gonna end up in a group home this time and it'll be all your fault because you're too dumb to know when to run away."

There was a loud knock on the trailer door, and Sophia let go of my hair so hard she banged my head against the back wall of the closet.

My eyes went funny for a second and I thought about the cartoons I watched with Cal where birds flew around someone's head.

I thought birds tweeting would probably be nicer than the sudden ache in my head and the lump already coming up under my hair.

"And you know what?" Sophia put her face right back down next to mine, spitting her next words right at me. "When they take you two into care, they'll split you up and you'll never see your precious little baby monster again. Ever. And it'll be. All. Your. Fault."

She shoved my head against the wall again for good measure, before slamming the closet door shut on us.

My head still felt kind of funny and my eyes wouldn't focus, so I didn't see what Sophia did after that, but I heard the trailer door open.

"Niko?" Cal was looking up at me, and I blinked hard, the shadows becoming slightly less blurry. I could see my little brother shaking, even in the near-darkness. "Are they really gonna take us away so I won't see you no more?"

"Any more," I corrected him automatically. "And no. I won't let that happen."

I pulled him up onto my lap and held onto him until he stopped shaking.

"I don't like it when she hurts you," he said quietly.

I couldn't see his face because his back was against my chest.

"I'm okay," I told him, resisting the urge to rub at the goose egg on the back of my head. "We're lions, right? She can't hurt us."

"Ms. Leandros?"

It was a woman's voice, and I put my hand over Cal's mouth as he opened it to speak.

"Shh," I whispered. "We need to be really, really quiet now, kiddo."

I knew Sophia wasn't making that part up. They _would_ take us away and split us up if they knew...if they saw...

"Who wants to know?" I heard my mother bark back. Polite as ever.

"Family Services, ma'am."

I heard the door creak and wasn't sure whether it was Sophia opening it wider or closing it in the Family Services lady's face. I peered out through the gaps between the rotting wooden door slats, but could only see Sophia's back.

"What did the little shit do now?" Sophia asked shortly, and I heard the sound of heels on linoleum, and the next time the lady spoke her voice sounded closer.

I dared to peek out again, and saw a youngish black lady wearing a smart purple jacket and skirt. She had pretty eyes and even though the expression on her face was very serious, half of me wanted to kick open the closet door and beg her to take us with her, if only to get Cal the heck away from Sophia before she decided it was worth touching him if it meant she could hurt him the way she seemed to like hurting me.

"Ma'am, we've had a complaint from your son—" the lady glanced down at a folder of paperwork she'd been clutching to her chest, "—Niko's school."

I sucked in a breath and held it.

I hadn't told. I hadn't.

"His teacher is—" the lady paused, "—concerned about a fairly regular pattern of bruising she's been seeing on your son."

"The kid bruises easy," Sophia said. "Not my fault he's made of glass."

I felt Cal's head twist around to look up at me.

"You're not made of glass," he whispered, and I shushed him quietly.

The Family Services lady glanced in our direction, and said, "Is your son here, Ms. Leandros? His teacher tells me she hasn't seen him for a few days."

I put my hand over Cal's mouth again before rubbing at my purple arm and trying not to scratch at the scab over the burn mark.

I was stupid and deserved it, she'd said. I burnt mine and Cal's breakfast so she burnt me.

"He's staying with his father," Sophia lied.

"Oh." The Family Services lady looked at her notes again. "I wasn't aware Niko's father was in the picture?"

"It's a recent thing."

"And your younger son? I believe you also have a three-year-old? Caliban?"

"He's with his brother."

"So they have the same father?"

Sophia snorted. "Hell no," she said. And I wanted to put her arm onto the stove the way she'd done that to me. "But Niko's dad is trying to score points with him, so took 'em both for a few days."

Cal pushed my hand away from his mouth. "That's not true," he pointed out. "You said. You said you don't have a daddy."

I shushed him again, and the lady frowned.

"Ms. Leandros, are you _sure_ your sons aren't here?" She started to walk towards where we were hiding, but Sophia caught her arm.

"No," she said firmly. "They're not here."

The Family Services lady was still looking in our direction. "When they come home, I'd like to see them, please," she said. "Both of them."

Sophia nodded. "Alright, but it might be a while."

The lady finally turned away from us and back towards our mother. "You really shouldn't take Niko out of school, ma'am," she said. "He'll get behind in his studies."

Sophia actually laughed at that. "Like it'll make any difference," she burst out.

The Family Services lady frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sophia shrugged. "Kid's dumb as a bag of rocks," she said. "No amount of school's gonna fix that."

The lady's frown deepened. "Ma'am," she said slowly, "have you actually seen your son's school transcripts?"

Sophia shrugged. I didn't think she really cared.

"Niko's a straight A student. Pretty much top of his class. You didn't know that?"

Sophia shrugged again. "There's book-learning and there's _real_ learning," she said. "Book-learning ain't no use to me."

That was because I wouldn't help her run her cons. She said I was stupid.

The Family Services lady tapped her folder against her chest and breathed out slowly. "Maybe you should take some time to read Niko's transcripts," she said softly.

"And maybe I should marry Donald Trump," Sophia countered. "Be a better use of my time."

The Family Services lady tightened her jaw. I thought she looked mad. Not the way Sophia got mad. But different. Sad at the same time.

"Please call me when your sons get home," she said, as if she deliberately wanted to change the subject. She handed my mother a card, which Sophia took one look at before discarding it on the table.

"Sure," she said.

The lady looked at her for a second, and I didn't think she believed her.

"Well then," she said, turning and heading for the door. "I'll see myself out."

"You do that," Sophia said, not making any effort to see her out of the trailer.

As she left, Cal twisted to look up at me.

"You're not dumb," he insisted. "You're the smartest person I know."

If I was so smart, why the hell were we still here with Sophia?

Because I was a kid.

I was kid.

But one day I'd be a lion.

And then I'd take Cal and we'd go.

Anywhere but here.

Somewhere where we never had to hide in the closet again.

* * *

"She always used to tell you how dumb you were, right?" Cal said suddenly.

I looked across at him, jerked out of my reverie by the horrible suspicion Cal could read my mind.

On reflection, however, I realized he had just become an expert at reading my face.

"Probably why you always have to show everyone how smart you are."

Wow. My kid brother was psychoanalyzing me.

We were so messed up. Sometimes I thought even our issues had issues.

"Are you suggesting I'm a show-off?" I asked him good-naturedly.

He didn't reply for a second. "She was wrong you know," he said, his expression still serious. "To say stuff like that to you. Make you feel stupid. She only did it to make her feel better about _herself_. You know that, right?"

I didn't answer immediately.

"Because of the things she did? To me? To you? Especially to you."

I'd hoped Cal wouldn't remember that part of our history with Sophia. It had come back to him a few months ago, a fleeting memory as we passed a random guy on the street.

I tried not to think about it in the same way I tried not to think about Cal's conception. It was just something that happened. If I didn't think about it hard enough, I could pretend it happened to someone else.

* * *

"Jesus, aren't they _ever_ gonna be done?" Cal sighed

"Language," I said, swatting my little brother across the back of his head. I didn't do it hard, but he still rubbed at it dramatically, as if I'd hit him with a sledgehammer.

"Will you _stop_ doing that?" he demanded.

I sniggered, forgetting for a second where we were and why we were hiding.

"You got kids in here?"

Dammit. Now we were in trouble. No dinner for me tonight. Again.

"What makes you say that?"

"I can _hear_ them!"

The closet door was ripped open and Sophia's latest "friend" had gotten hold of me and was dragging me out.

I tried to bite the hand that had a grip on my wrists, but the guy was big and _really_ strong, and it wasn't until Cal burst out of the closet behind him and started kicking him in the shins that he loosened his hold on me enough for me to actually pull away from him.

He still had a hold of one of my arms, though.

"And who's this?" he asked, trying to yank me back towards him.

I dug my heels in and would probably have managed to give him the slip if he hadn't grabbed hold of Cal as well.

"Get off of him," I snarled at him, trying to shove him away and not really getting very far.

He was big and he smelled funny and he wasn't wearing a shirt or pants.

Sophia had gotten up off the bed and was pulling on her robe.

"Okay, so I got kids," she said. "Sue me."

The guy laughed at that, before grimacing as Cal managed to sink his teeth into his arm. He yelped, grabbing hold of Cal, shoving him back into the closet and slamming the door shut behind him.

"Hey—" I tried to protest, trying to get to the door to let my little brother back out.

The guy got in between us, though, grabbing both my shoulders and kneeling down in front of me. He caught my chin and started turning my head from one side to the other.

"Sweetheart, you've been holding out on me," he said, glancing over his shoulder at my mother. "I thought you said you were smart?"

Sophia moved to stand behind him, holding out her hand.

He snorted and shoved a few dollars into her palm. "Cross my palm with silver, right?" he said. "That's a gypsy thing?"

Sophia shrugged, glancing down at the money in her hand. "Hey," she complained. "We agreed on fifty!"

The guy turned back to me and started to stroke my hair.

I tried to shove him off, and he just laughed.

I thought about Donny for a second.

I'd not thought about him in a long time.

Sophia had stopped counting her money and was looking at me.

"Hate to break it to you, honey," the guy told her, still looking at me. "But you're kind of past your prime. This one, though..." He tried to stroke my hair again, and I ducked my head out of the way so he couldn't. He must have thought that was funny, because he started to laugh again. "He's got spunk, your kid," he said. "Pretty too."

I didn't like the way he was looking at me and I don't think Sophia did either.

"You should go," she said.

He was still looking at me, still hanging onto my shoulders.

"You got yourself a little goldmine here, Rosie Lee," he said.

I don't know why he called her that. Maybe he didn't know her real name.

Sophia didn't reply, and I remembered how she'd not said anything at first when Donny offered her money to take me away with him.

"You could get double for him than what _you're_ earning these days."

"I'm earning plenty," Sophia told him. "When my lowlife Johns pay me what they agreed."

The guy snorted. "You looked in a mirror lately, hon?" he said. "Trust me, I was doing you a favor. I'm usually not that big into charity."

Sophia ran her fingers through her hair and straightened her robe.

"Here." He tossed her a packet of something white and, considering he wasn't dressed, I don't know where he got it from. "Part payment."

She caught it and turned away, leaving him crouching in front of me.

He tried to stroke my hair again and I ducked away a second time.

"He's eight," my mother said quietly. She wasn't looking at either of us.

"If you're squeamish—"

"He's _eight_ ," she repeated.

The guy shrugged and let go of me. "If you've not got the stomach for it," he said, "I get it. But your rent's due, right? And the booze has all gone. And the Johns aren't exactly lining up around the block for you, sweetheart." He reached out to touch me again, and I backed away, out of his range. "But this one? Doesn't look like you do. Doesn't look _used._ Doesn't look like a _whore_."

That was a bad word. People were always using it about my mom. Even some of the kids at school.

"You should leave," Sophia said again.

The guy ruffled my hair before getting to his feet. "Your loss," he said. "But if you change your mind—" he picked his jeans up from off the floor and started to climb into them. "—I could hook you up. Lots o' guys in this town into that sort of thing."

It was two weeks later and three towns over when she finally took him up on his offer.

* * *

We didn't need to be hiding out in the closet.

Sophia wasn't home, so we weren't dodging flying plates and whiskey bottles.

There were no guys in her bedroom who didn't like the thought of kids hanging around while they paid her for her "company."

We hadn't seen a Grendel in weeks, so Cal didn't feel like he needed to spend all day in here so they wouldn't be able to watch him.

For once, I guess, we were hiding out for me.

It was Sunday, and I doubted Sophia had gone to church.

Sometimes on Sundays she brought guys home with her.

For me.

Weekends were always the worst. I guess there were a lot of 9 to 5 guys with time and money on their hands at the weekend.

Yesterday there had been two.

One of them had come for her, but I wasn't quick enough getting me and Cal into the closet, and he'd seen me and changed his mind.

He liked blonds, he'd said.

I'd had enough of this.

I didn't like what they did to me or what they made me do to them. I didn't like that Sophia took their money and let them do it. And I didn't like how she said she'd let them do it to Cal if I said "no."

This had been going on since I was eight years old. Four years now. There had been long, blissful months when nothing had happened. When whatever con Sophia had been running was enough to keep her in booze and pills.

But when the cons went south, when we had to skip town, when there wasn't enough money to make the rent, buy her whiskey or, God forbid, actually _feed_ her kids, that was when it happened. She'd bring men around for herself, but increasingly she was bringing them around for me.

And she'd just leave us.

She'd bring some random guy home, take his money, hand me over to him, and leave.

He could have done _anything_ to us. He could have _killed_ us. Me _and_ Cal. Or just taken us, put us in his car and driven off with us.

The one time that nearly happened, I'd seen a Grendel lurking behind the trailer, red eyes glowing and needle teeth bared.

I'd kicked the guy in the nuts while Cal had sunk his teeth into his arm, and we'd run.

God help me, we'd run in the direction of the Grendel.

I'd never told Cal about that. Not sure he even saw. But I was nine and I didn't know what else to do.

The guy had said he wanted to "go all the way with me" and although I didn't know what that meant back then, Sophia had told me if anyone ever said that to me I should run.

I'd locked myself in the bathroom, but Cal had been watching cartoons in the living room, and the guy had said he'd take him away with him if I didn't come out.

I didn't know what the Grendel would do, but I got the feeling they were watching out for Cal, so figured, you know, couldn't be any worse than some guy with a thing for little boys trying to drive away with us in his car, right?

I'm still not sure what the Grendel did, but by the time we got back home a couple hours later, the guy was gone, and so was his car.

And there was blood on the gravel.

Sophia had gotten home before us and beaten the crap out of me for "running off."

I told her what the guy had tried to do, but she didn't seem to care.

I didn't tell her about the Grendel though.

One of these days I'd be big enough to hit her back.

Cal was drawing on this big yellow legal pad I stole from somewhere for him. He liked to draw, and when Sophia was really drunk, it seemed to keep him calm while we were hiding out.

When he was little he used to draw stick figures of him and me living in a big house somewhere where the sun was always shining, but lately... Well there were lots of red eyes and black line drawings of things I wasn't sure whether he'd seen or imagined he'd seen.

"What are you drawing?" I asked him, because I couldn't make it out upside down. I was trying to do my math homework, but was finding it hard to concentrate, jumping a mile in the air at every tiny noise in case our mother was back with one of her "friends."

"It's where we're going to live when we're grown up," he told me, not looking up.

"And where's that?" I asked.

He finally met my gaze then and grinned. "New York City," he told me. "We're gonna have a big apartment and a cool car and there won't be Grendels and nobody being mean to us or hurting you."

I smiled at him. "Sounds good," I said. "So we live together?"

He nodded solemnly. "Always," he said. "Until we die. And then after."

I frowned at him. "After we die?"

He nodded again, and I wasn't sure what he meant.

"And where's Sophia?" I asked him.

"She's dead," he replied shortly, and I was pretty sure he wasn't even the slightest bit sorry.

And I didn't have the heart to tell him that was a terrible thing to say because it didn't sound so terrible to me, either.

I heard the trailer door open and froze.

We had a big closet in the kitchenette in this trailer, so didn't have to hide out in Sophia's room, which, you know, bonus, but I knew if she'd brought me a "date" she'd find us in here. We were always in here.

Cal grabbed hold of my hand. I hadn't realized it was shaking.

"Don't let him," was all he said, and I wished I could do as he asked, but...

The closet door opened, and a guy bent down to look in at us.

He'd said his name was Randy, but I wasn't sure if that was his name or just his nature.

He'd been around a few times, started out coming for Sophia, but had started on me a couple months ago. He'd asked once if he could "do us" together, but my mother had drawn the line at that.

Nice to know she _had_ a line.

I didn't move. Wasn't gonna jump because he told me to.

I didn't like him. He worked in the fish market downtown and reeked, so much so I was pretty sure I'd never eat another fish as long as I lived. It wasn't just the fish stink on him, though; he always stunk of sweat and cigarettes, and he liked to put his mouth on me, which just made me want to throw up. And he was dirty, too, like he never showered. And I doubt he even knew soap and deodorant and toothpaste existed.

"Hey, princess," he greeted me. And I hated that about him too. I'd grown my hair out and he told me it made me look like a girl; but he liked that. He liked it a lot because he liked to pull at it. And he'd been calling me "princess" ever since.

Sophia thought it was hilarious, and when she caught me trying to hack my hair off with a butcher knife she gave me a good whack and told me if I did that, I'd disappoint the customers, and she'd have to do the same to Cal's hair, too.

Cal had floppy black hair that he only let me cut when it was almost to his shoulders.

I knew Sophia wouldn't really cut off Cal's hair because it meant she'd have to touch him first.

"You gonna keep me waiting all day?" Randy asked, and I sighed, putting down my math homework and climbing out of the closet.

I had on a black t-shirt and jeans, and he always said I looked cute in black.

Kinda wished I was wearing pink polkadots right now.

He looked me up and down for a second, and then glanced behind me to where Cal was still sitting drawing.

"Your brother coming out?" Randy asked, and I immediately moved so I was standing in between them.

"He's busy," I told him.

He'd never paid much attention to Cal before, which I was glad of.

"Come out here, kid," Randy said.

I glanced over at Sophia, but she was busy counting out the wad of bills Randy had left on the table.

Cal hadn't moved, and I took a step back, trying to close the closet door between us.

But Randy caught hold of the door and shoved it open so hard it banged back against the wall.

Sophia finally looked up at that, but didn't really seem too concerned. "You break it, you buy it," was all she said.

I could sense Cal standing behind me, and he put his hand on my wrist to let me know he was there.

Randy grinned broadly. "There he is!" he burst out, reaching a hand toward my brother.

I took another step back, pushing Cal out of his reach.

He frowned a little, but didn't seem too bothered. "I was starting to think you were some hideous monster your mom and your brother always kept locked in the closet," he said.

Sophia snorted loudly, and I thought again about when I'd be big enough to hit her back.

"I'm not a monster," Cal said flatly. "Niko said so."

"Oh, Niko did, did he?" Randy grinned, and his eyes slid from my little brother's face down to his feet and back up again.

And that's when I started eyeing the knives in the butcher's block.

Cal was eight. He was _eight_.

Randy glanced over his shoulder at my mom.

"Little one on the market yet?"

Sophia finally raised her head. She looked at me, and then she looked at Cal.

And then she looked at Randy.

"You want 'em both there's a surcharge."

I wanted to say something to her, yell at her, _scream_ at her, but it all died in my throat. All of it. She was our mother. She was supposed to _protect_ us.

Randy grinned, and I thought about punching him too. "How much?"

Sophia shrugged. "Triple."

Randy nodded. "Done," he said, before turning back to us with a lecherous grin on his face. "Looks like we're gonna have ourselves a party, boys!"

That was when I did it.

She was supposed to protect us and she didn't, so I knew it was up to me now.

If our mother wouldn't protect us, then I _would_.

I dived for the butcher's block, grabbed the biggest knife I could find, and stuck it in his gut.

The look of surprise on his face was almost comical.

The look on Sophia's face? I'd probably replay it in my head for the rest of my life.

"What did you _do_?!" she screamed, her color draining completely.

I didn't reply, didn't move, _couldn't_ move, my hand still holding the knife stuck in Randy's stomach, his blood running down the handle and coating my hand and my arm.

I'd never stabbed anyone before, although I'd thought about it plenty of times with Sophia.

Somehow I managed to push Cal back into the closet behind me with my free hand, and shut the door.

"Cal," I said, my voice sounding surprisingly calm. "Don't come out until I tell you to."

Cal didn't answer, and I didn't know whether he'd actually seen what I did, or whether I'd been standing between us enough to block his view.

Sophia was finally at my side, her hand on my arm, her fingers prizing my own off the knife.

There was blood all over me; on my hands, my shirt, my jeans. It was spilling onto the linoleum underneath us with a drip-drip-drip.

"Psycho son of a _bitch_!" Randy growled, his hand on his stomach. "When I get through with you, you're gonna be in Juvy _forever_ and then you're going to jail, and you'll have more to worry about than fuckin' blowjobs, you little…"

Sophia had one hand on my wrist and the other on the knife.

Which she wasn't pulling out.

She twisted it a little instead, and Randy howled in pain.

"You come near my kid again," she said, "and he's not going to be the only one trying to kill you."

I blanched a little at that. I hadn't been trying to kill him. I didn't _think_ I'd been trying to kill him. But Cal… he'd threatened Cal…

I looked up at Sophia, at the grim expression on her face. She was defending me. Why was she defending me?

The life seemed to be draining out of Randy along with the copious amounts of his blood dripping onto our kitchenette floor.

He grit his teeth, and there was blood in his mouth and I didn't understand how that could be when I'd stabbed him in the gut.

"CPS is gonna be the least of your worries, you fuckin' bitch whore!" he spat at my mother. "That psycho brat's getting locked up for the rest of his _life_ and the other one's gonna end up some foster creep's _bitch_ …"

I grabbed hold of Sophia's hand, the one holding the knife, and shoved it harder.

Randy screamed in pain, and Sophia glanced down at me for a second, a look in her eyes that might have been fear.

And suddenly it made sense. Why she was defending me.

She was afraid.

She was afraid of CPS taking us away. Not because she loved us. Not because she didn't want to lose her kids.

She was afraid of the Grendels. Of what they'd do to her if Cal was taken away from her.

And she was afraid of _me_.

"Call 911," I ordered her. When she didn't move, I yelled, "Sophia, do it _now_!"

My mother let go of the knife, but my hand was gripping it again, and it wasn't shaking anymore.

She ran to the phone in the kitchen and snatched up the receiver, Randy's blood sticky and red where she touched it. "What do I tell them?"

I looked at Randy, the knife still held in his gut. "Tell him there was an accident. Your friend was doing stupid knife tricks and one went wrong."

Randy snorted. "You think they'll fall for _that_ bullshit?" he growled.

I scowled up at him. "I don't know," I said. "Depends how well the two of you sell it."

Randy blinked at me, sweat pouring down his ashen face, and Sophia just stared at me, as if she couldn't quite believe what was happening, couldn't quite believe I was the same kid she always called stupid.

"You think I'm gonna back you up?" Randy asked incredulously, and I twisted the knife, just a little.

"You know what they do to child rapists in prison?" I asked him.

He froze.

"And mothers who sell their kids to perverts?"

Sophia blinked at me. And then there was a voice on the end of the phone and she was speaking without seeming to actually be aware of what she was saying. "Paramedics," she blurted. "We need paramedics. My friend…was doing knife tricks and…and he slipped…and there's blood everywhere…"

I smiled at her and nodded, and looked back up at Randy, who, if it was possible, was an even paler shade of white than he had been previously.

"Your word against ours, man," I said. "But I got bruises all over me. I'll tell them you did it. I'll tell them you forced me and were trying to force yourself onto my little brother…" Which was true. All of it. "They'll lock you away for _ever_ ," I added. "And blowjobs will be the least of _your_ worries."

He looked like he might pass out right then and there, but nodded minutely.

I let go of the knife, and it fell out of Randy's gut and landed with a clatter on the linoleum.

When the cops arrived, they found me with my hands over the hole in Randy's gut, keeping pressure on the wound, just like I'd been shown in first aid class.

They said I was brave, that I'd probably saved his life.

And they believed every word we said.

Randy didn't die. And he never touched me again.

We moved a couple weeks after. To a new town, new school.

When my mom brought "dates" home, they were for her, not for me.

And if anyone looked at me or Cal funny? She kicked them out on their asses.

I only wish I'd stabbed one of the assholes sooner.

* * *

"Your hand's shaking."

I could hear Cal's voice, but wasn't quite sure what he was saying.

"Nik? Nik, you okay?"

His hand was on my hand and I looked down.

I had a knife in my hand.

It was the one I kept strapped to my forearm.

I blinked down at it, and looked up at Cal, and for a second I didn't know where I was or how I got there.

I was twelve and in a trailer kitchen holding a knife with some pervert's blood all over it.

But Cal wasn't eight anymore.

"Nik?"

I shook my head a little to try and clear the fuzziness away.

"Miles away," I said, and it was only too true. Miles and miles and years and years away.

I was pretty sure Cal didn't remember what I'd done to Randy. I'd told him about it when he'd started remembering...things a while back. But his face didn't light up with recognition or anything. So I was hopeful that was at least one childhood trauma I'd saved him.

But there were so many others to choose from. So many I knew he _did_ remember. So many things I couldn't protect him from. People—things—that wanted to hurt us. Not least our mother.

After I stabbed Randy, things were okay for a while. Or as okay as life with Sophia was ever going to be.

I was working two or three part-time jobs, which I fitted around school, enough to keep us fed and the rent paid without Sophia deciding maybe she should start bringing guys home for me again.

But then there was that one guy. Marek. The one that kept coming back. The one that kept spending the night in Sophia's bed. The one that expected me to make him breakfast every morning. The one that got our mother hooked on something a little stronger than whiskey.

The one that, when our mother was passed out on the sofa, told me to unfasten his pants and get to work on him or he'd cut my little brother's throat.

He said he knew what Cal was.

 _I_ didn't even know what Cal was, so I didn't see how he could know.

When I'd refused to do what he wanted, he'd pinned me to the dirty linoleum and tried to force himself on me, but I was thirteen by then, bigger than I had been at eight, or twelve, able to say no and _mean_ no.

And the iron was still out on the table.

Somehow I'd managed to grab the cable and pull it down on his head.

I'd pushed him off of me and got out from underneath him, but there was blood everywhere and his head had looked like a squashed melon.

I'd left him there.

Left Sophia unconscious on the sofa.

Grabbed Cal and run.

Cal had been in the closet. I made him go there when Marek was around because I didn't like the way he looked at either one of us, especially when Sophia had had a little too much of her happy juice.

I don't know how much he saw to this day, but his face was white and he never asked me any questions, just let me grab his hand and drag him from the trailer.

It was when the cops caught up with us that it got _really_ bad...

* * *

I'd never been in handcuffs before.

I didn't even know the cops could _do_ that to kids.

The bench I was sitting on was hard and uncomfortable and my arms were aching from having been restrained behind me for so long. My wrists hurt and my head hurt, and my shoulder was bleeding where Marek had torn my shirt and bitten me.

But Cal was at my side.

A warm, constant presence, leaning in to me, his shoulder against my arm, his head against my shoulder.

He kept telling me everything was going to be okay, and I wanted to laugh.

Nothing was _ever_ going to be okay.

We'd gotten as far as the county line before the cops had pulled us over.

The car we were in had been reported stolen within minutes of us boosting it, and, although I'd driven plenty of times, particularly when Sophia was in no fit state and we needed to get out of town fast, this one was big and cumbersome, and I was having trouble reaching the pedals and seeing out over the dash at the same time.

The cop had waved a gun in my face, yanked me out of the car, thrown me over the hood and cuffed me. Said he was arresting me for attempted murder.

Which at least meant Marek wasn't dead.

His partner had been a little gentler with Cal.

They'd let us ride together when Cal had turned on the waterworks.

Cal hardly ever cried these days—he was far too grown up for that sort of thing—but when he needed to, he could produce floods of tears at a moment's notice, and just looked so damned sincere when he did it.

At the police station they'd taken my prints and my picture, and then they'd cuffed me to this bench because they said they couldn't put a juvenile in Holding.

"What's gonna happen?" Cal whispered, moving even closer to me.

I shook my head. "I don't know," I told him truthfully.

I never lied to my brother. Not even if it would probably have been in his best interests if I had.

A forensics lady had approached us then. She told me she needed to swab my shoulder where Marek had bitten me.

I'd told them some of what had happened. What Marek had been trying to do to me. What he said he'd do to Cal if I didn't co-operate.

I missed out the part about him telling me he knew what Cal was.

"Okay, that should do it, hon," the lady said to me. She had kind eyes, and even after she'd put the swab away in the plastic tube, she continued to crouch down in front of me. "Does it hurt?" she asked. "Want me to dress it for you?"

I shook my head, unprepared for kindness.

"Okay, sweetie," she said, patting my knee. "Don't you worry. It's going to be alright."

A different cop approached us then. Not the one that arrested me. This one was a detective in a suit. He was really tall, black, nearly bald. In his fifties, maybe.

He had kind eyes too, and I felt like I wanted to cry, wanted to make this whole nightmare go away.

"It's Niko, right?" he said as he was uncuffing me.

I rubbed at my wrists and nodded.

He put a massive, gentle hand on the back of my head. "Okay, son," he said. "Let's see if we can't straighten all this out. I'm Detective Moseley. Darryl. This your little brother?"

I nodded, mutely.

"And what's your name?" Darryl asked, looking over at Cal.

Cal glanced up at me, and I nodded slightly.

"Cal," he replied a little sullenly, his lower lip stuck out. "You gonna lock my brother up?" he asked, and I knew it was an act, knew Cal was playing the scared, precocious nine-year-old a little too well.

Darryl inclined his head a little. "Depends what the two of you tell me went down over at your house."

"It's not a house, it's a trailer," Cal told him. "And what went down was our mom's boyfriend tried to do stuff he shouldn't have been trying to do to my brother while our mom was passed out drunk on the sofa."

Darryl blinked at him.

"Cal…" I murmured, a little uncertainly.

Cal shrugged. "He asked," he said shortly. "And I told him."

"Where were you while this was happening?" Darryl asked, shepherding us towards what might have been a coffee room but could equally have been Interrogation.

"Closet," Cal replied, no deception in his face at all. "Nik put me in there."

Darryl glanced at me as he ushered us into the room.

Coffee room. Armchairs. TV. No recording equipment.

"Why did you do that, Niko?" he asked me as he indicated a sofa we could sit on.

Cal sat so close to me he was practically on my lap.

"I didn't like how Marek looked at him," I replied. And that was the truth.

Darryl ambled over to a vending machine and stuck in a note. "You boys want soda?"

Cal nodded and I shrugged, but he bought us both a Pepsi anyway.

He sat down opposite us in a beat up old armchair that in no way matched the sofa we were sitting on.

He had a cup of coffee in his hand, and I can honestly say I had no idea where he got it from.

"So how did Marek look at him?" the detective asked.

I glanced sideways at Cal, and shifted awkwardly in my seat.

When I didn't answer, Cal piped up, "Like he wanted to get in my pants."

I swiveled to look at him so fast it's a wonder my head didn't come off. "Cal—" I started to admonish him.

"Well it's true!" Cal burst out. "Same way he looked at you. 'Cept he actually tried to do it with you!"

Darryl's frown deepened. "Niko?" he urged.

I glanced at Cal, then back at the detective. "He told me that if I didn't—" I bit my lip, not wanting to say it in front of Cal, but not seeing an alternative. "He told me that if I didn't—do stuff—to him, he was going to cut Cal's throat."

Cal blinked up at me, and it hit me that maybe he hadn't heard that part while it had been happening.

I'd been all set to say nothing to the cops. To take what they doled out in the hope that Cal would be okay. But now I could see what Cal was up to.

He was _trying_ to get us put in care.

Because that would be preferable to my going to Juvy for attempted murder and him getting left with Sophia on his own.

"Has he tried to touch you like that before?" the detective asked carefully.

I glanced sideways at Cal. "Couple of times," I admitted. "He—he came into our room one night last week and started—" I swallowed, "—trying to put his hands on me. But I had a knife and he backed off."

The detective nodded. He was writing something in a little notebook, his face completely neutral.

"You always sleep with a knife?"

I nodded. "Since he's been there."

"And where was your mom while this was happening?"

"Out."

"And the other time?"

I blinked at him. "Huh?"

"The other time. You said, 'a couple of times'."

I shifted uncomfortably. "He tried to kiss me."

"Where?"

I frowned. "Where…?"

"Where were you?" Darryl clarified.

"In the kitchen," I replied. "He told me to make him breakfast. Then he shoved me up against the fridge and tried to stick his tongue down my throat."

"What did you do?"

"Kneed him in the balls and barricaded myself and Cal in our bedroom."

"And where was your mom while this was happening?"

"Sitting at the table."

The detective looked up from his notes. "Your mom was there when this happened?"

I glanced sideways at Cal again, who was staring up at me, a little bit of an accusation in his eyes.

I didn't lie to him.

But I didn't always tell him _everything_.

I nodded in answer to the detective's question.

"And she didn't try to stop him?"

I shook my head.

"This happened before?"

"With Marek?"

"With any of her other 'boyfriends'?"

He had a folder out on his lap, and I could see my mom's mugshot paperclipped to the inside cover.

Had to be her rap sheet.

And I knew she'd been arrested for prostitution before. Had to go down to the station and bail her out more than once.

Cal was still staring up at me, and I shrugged.

"Was that a yes?"

I shrugged again.

I couldn't.

Not in front of Cal.

Darryl let my mom's file fall to his lap. "She take money?" he asked.

I looked up at him and met his gaze evenly. "For her or for me?" I asked.

"Either."

I nodded.

"How old were you? The first time?"

"Eight."

Cal was still staring up at me, but his face was contorted by a frown.

I was pretty sure he didn't know what the detective and I were discussing.

I didn't want him to know.

Not ever.

Darryl let out a long breath. "I'd like a doctor to take a look at you," he said. "Both of you."

I stiffened. "Just me," I said. I'd seen what Cal's "dad" had looked like. Any doctor went poking around him, I wasn't entirely sure what they'd find.

Darryl glanced at Cal, then back to me. "Okay," he agreed. "Just need to see—"

"He's got bruises everywhere," Cal piped up. "She hits him all the time."

Darryl frowned. "Your mom?"

I thought Cal was laying it on a little bit thick. But it wasn't as if he was lying.

I shrugged.

"You know why we took that swab?"

"To see if it was Marek that bit me," I replied. I wasn't stupid. I paid attention in Biology class. I knew about DNA.

The detective nodded. "He do that when he had you on the floor?"

I nodded.

"And what did you do then?"

"Pulled the iron off the table."

"Did you hit him with it?"

I shook my head. "It fell on him."

The detective nodded, noting something in his book. "Your mom's here," he said, without looking up.

I felt Cal stiffen beside me.

I swallowed, didn't say anything, just nodded.

"You wanna see her?" Darryl did look up at that question.

I glanced at Cal and shrugged.

Darryl nodded. "What about you, kiddo?" he asked Cal. "Wanna go sit with your mom while Niko sees the doctor?"

Cal shook his head vehemently and grabbed hold of my arm, pretty much burrowing into my side.

And this time I knew he wasn't play-acting.

I think Detective Moseley knew it too.

He nodded again. "I need to speak to her, actually," he told us, his voice completely neutral. "You boys okay to stick around here for a bit?"

I nodded, and Cal somehow managed to get even closer to me.

The detective stood, gently patting me on the shoulder as he passed me on his way out.

Cal jumped up as soon as he'd gone and followed him to the door.

"How bad is it?" I asked, a little scared to follow him.

Cal paused for a second. "Can't hear what they're saying," he replied, pressing his ear to the glass panel in the top half of the door. "But she looks pissed."

I took a breath, standing on shaky legs before joining my little brother.

He opened the door a crack, and I moved to close it again before he scowled up at me.

"You wanna hear them, right?" he asked.

I hesitated, before allowing him to leave the door open.

Sophia was more than just pissed. She was practically _vibrating_.

"…Little shit tried to murder my boyfriend!" she was yelling, and her words were only a little bit slurred, as if finding Marek with his head caved in had sobered her up real fast. "I want you to lock him up. _Forever_."

I swallowed hard, and Cal was suddenly holding my hand.

He'd not done that since he was six.

"Sounds like there were some extenuating circumstances, Ms. Leandros—" Detective Moseley began.

"Extenuating my ass!" Sophia growled. "He's done this before, you know. Stabbed one of my—one of my friends because he didn't like him."

Cal glanced up at me. "What's she talking about?" he asked. "That guy Randy?"

"You remember that?" I asked.

Cal rolled his eyes. "I'm not an idiot," he said. "And it was only a year ago."

Darryl frowned at our mother. "Was this reported to the police?" he asked.

Sophia averted her gaze a little. "No," she replied.

"And why was that?"

Sophia didn't answer.

"Ms. Leandros, I have some concerns about your son."

"About him being a psychopath?"

"What's a psychopath?" Cal asked.

"Take a look in the mirror some time," I replied.

Cal snorted. "Handsome, smart and cool then?" he asked.

"Something like that," I replied.

"He's made some allegations…" the detective began.

"Oh really?" Sophia tried to stand up a little straighter, but didn't quite manage it, the distinct wobble seriously undermining her attempt at justified indignation.

"About Marek Szukowski."

"Oh?" Sophia's forced cool seemed to waver a little.

"And yourself."

Sophia glanced over the detective's shoulder, and she was looking right at us.

"Whatever the little bastard said, he's lying," she informed him shortly, never taking her eyes off me.

"Be that as it may," Darryl said, "I think we should go somewhere a little more private to talk." He took her by the elbow, and she tried to shake him off, but he was a little bit more than insistent. "This way, Ms. Leandros," he said. "And I suggest you cooperate. You wouldn't want to add Resisting Arrest to the charges would you?"

* * *

The police doctor was very gentle, but not really good at disguising what she was thinking.

She took one look at me when I pulled off my t-shirt and looked like she wanted to be sick.

To be honest, I wasn't in the worst state I'd ever been in. Sure, my ribs were black and blue where Sophia had decided to use me for soccer practice after I'd refused Marek's advances in the kitchen.

He'd left and didn't come back for three days, and she told me if I'd "poisoned another of her relationships" she was going to find some pervert to sell me to who'd keep me chained up in his basement until I was thirty.

Like that would be any worse than living in the same trailer with Marek.

When I'd pointed out Marek was more interested in sex with me than with her, she'd twisted my arm right up behind my back and shoved me face down against the gas ring, the only thing keeping her from burning off half my face being Cal threatening to pour her last bottle of bourbon down the sink.

Consequently, my arm was purple from wrist to elbow, as was the back of my neck where she'd held my head down.

Then there were the usual cigarette burns on my back and stomach. Some of those were Marek, though.

And I'd almost forgotten about when she'd used Marek's belt on me because I was ten minutes late home from my second job and wasn't there to make her dinner.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized a group home didn't seem such a bad idea.

Hell, _Juvy_ didn't seem such a bad idea right now.

Cal was sitting in the corner pretending to be looking at a comic book Detective Moseley had given him.

I'd asked if our mother was under arrest, but he said he was just talking to her at the moment.

Looked like Marek was going to survive, though. Which, yay. Not so much.

The doctor was examining my wrist, the one Sophia broke when I was six. She looked at me expectantly, and I just shrugged.

"How did this one happen?" she prompted.

"Closet door," I said, not elaborating.

She turned to Cal at that point. "Maybe your little brother should wait in the hall while I do the rest of the exam."

I figured what she meant, what she needed to check next, but I didn't want Cal out of my sight.

"It's okay," I told her. "Just do it."

She nodded, and I decided there and then that if we got out of this, we weren't going back to Sophia. Not ever. Not if I could avoid it.

* * *

"Shhh."

I had my hand over Cal's mouth, but really wasn't prepared for him biting me.

"Dammit, Cal—"

"Shhh yourself!" he growled, twisting to scowl at me.

"You _want_ him to find us?" I asked.

Cal didn't reply right away.

"I'm going to _kill_ that asshole," he ground out at length.

I whacked him across the back of the head. "Language."

"Sorry," Cal amended. "I'm going to kill that _fucking_ asshole."

I slapped his head again.

He shoved my hand away grumpily. "You know, if I get a brain tumor it'll be _your_ fault."

"Then stop cursing."

"I'll stop cursing when that fucking asshole stops trying to touch us up."

It seemed like the running theme of my life right now.

Closets and hiding from pervs with a thing for little boys.

Of course Walter wasn't exclusively into little boys.

He liked little girls too.

Which was partly tonight's problem.

If I hadn't punched him in the face, dragged him off Sadie and managed to get her locked in the bathroom with her little sister Bethany, Cal and I wouldn't be needing to hide from him right now.

Another day, another closet.

I _really_ hated closets.

Walter was our third foster since they took us away from Sophia.

They hadn't brought any charges against her. Not yet. And they hadn't brought any against me either.

Self-defense, they'd decided. Detective Moseley had managed to convince the DA that charging a thirteen-year-old kid with the attempted murder of the asshole trying to rape him might not be the best PR for the department.

God bless Detective Moseley.

I'm sure if he'd realized getting us away from Sophia and Marek had meant we'd be stuck in a house with another sadistic pervert, he would not have been at all happy about it.

I'd tried to call him after the first time. After Sonny, and him locking himself in the bathroom with Cal.

Sonny's wife Michelle had begged me not to go to the cops. He'd not actually _done_ anything to Cal, had he?

Not after Cal threatened to bite his dick off if he put it anywhere near him, anyway.

I'd settled for a transfer, and we'd ended up with Ralph, who was of the opinion there was nothing wrong with him getting into bed with his foster kids as long as he only touched them over their pajamas.

I'd tried to call Darryl that time too, but just got a busy signal that never seemed to _not_ be busy.

After I broke Ralph's wandering hand when he'd decided maybe putting it _under_ his foster kids' pajamas was okay too, we'd ended up with Walter.

They told me if I was any more trouble, they were sending me to Correctional, so I was supposed to be on my best behavior here.

But I couldn't just stand by when I knew what the creep was doing to the littler kids, could I? And there was only so many times I could take the hit to get them off the hook.

I swear if the guy tried to bite my neck one more time I was knocking out his teeth.

And I could do it, too.

For the last few months, since Marek, I'd decided enough was enough and I had to learn how to protect myself and my little brother properly. I'd started hanging around boxing clubs and gyms a while back, but quickly realized that wasn't for me. I wasn't particularly big, and I needed something that would put me on an even footing with someone twice my size.

That's when I started hanging around the local dojo.

Although I was pretty confident I could inflict some serious damage on anyone who tried anything, the problem with Walter was that he wasn't just your average pedophile.

He liked to hurt you. Like he got off on it.

The biting was just the tip of the iceberg.

Before I realized what he was into, he managed to get me alone in the basement while I was trying to do the laundry, handcuffed me to a radiator and half-strangled me while he rubbed himself up against me like a demented terrier on heat.

After that I made sure I always had a knife on me. And Cal too.

Cal seemed far too pleased with this development for my liking, but I needed to know he was armed if Walter tried anything when I wasn't around.

I didn't even know how this had happened.

Sure, I'd stabbed him in the hand with a fork. But he shouldn't have come up behind me while I was doing the dishes and tried to put it down the front of my jeans in the first place.

He'd laughed and told me how hot I was when I played hard to get.

Then he'd just left me alone, and it wasn't until Cal came and got me because Walter had cornered Sadie upstairs that I realized he'd decided he wanted to play with me tonight.

He knew I'd come to get him off Sadie.

And he liked it.

He liked it when I punched him.

He liked it when I fought back.

He liked it when I tried to keep him off the other kids.

I was the oldest there, fourteen now, the biggest challenge, and he had a thing for blonds.

Him and all the other pervs in the world.

One of these days I was gonna dye my hair purple.

Of course the thing he absolutely loved the most? Seeing the reaction he got out of me when he tried anything with Cal.

Which meant as soon as I'd got Sadie and Bethany to relative safety, I'd turned around to find he'd cornered Cal at the opposite end of the hallway.

He was stroking his hair and grinning over his shoulder at me.

Cal was right, of course.

Walter _was_ a fucking asshole.

A fucking asshole who hadn't yet realized Cal was armed with a knife.

Cal might only be ten, but he was absolutely fearless. And stabbing Walter in the thigh didn't seem to bother him at all. In fact, I think he might have enjoyed it.

I'd got hold of Cal while Walter was distracted with, you know, bleeding and everything, and dragged him to the front door. Which, naturally, Walter had locked and taken away the key. When we'd turned to head for the back, Walter had been behind us with bright sparkling eyes and a grin on his face that was scarier than if he'd been scowling at us.

He liked this.

He liked the thrill of the chase.

The thrill of the pain.

He liked to hurt and he liked to be hurt, and, while I was pretty damn sure he wanted to hurt the crap out of me, I couldn't risk him trying to hurt Cal.

My first roundhouse kick outside of the dojo took him down, and we ran.

It was a big old house, lots of places to hide.

I wasn't sure how we ended up in Walter's bedroom closet though.

"Does Walter have a dog?" Cal asked suddenly, and I'd been so busy looking out for the bastard through the slats in the door that I hadn't noticed my little brother rooting through a box of Walter's stuff.

"Huh?"

Cal pulled out a black leather collar covered in metal studs and I vaguely remembered seeing one of Sophia's "dates" wearing one around his neck when he came to visit.

"Uh," I said carefully. "I don't think that's meant for a dog."

Cal just looked at me.

Then he carried right on rooting through Walter's "toybox."

There were at least three sets of handcuffs, and I knew, because he'd managed to handcuff me twice so far. The second time he'd cuffed me to his car door and threatened to drive off with me still attached if I didn't "rock his world."

I'd once seen someone pick a set of handcuffs using a paperclip on a TV show, so, thanks to the Internet, I'd taught myself how to do just that and subsequently never went anywhere without one in my pocket.

Cal looked suitably disgusted with the other things he was finding in the box, although he did seem kind of impressed by what I recognized from history class as the modern equivalent of a cat o' nine tails.

He didn't seem quite so sure about the ball gag, though.

"We _really_ need to get out of here," he muttered, holding the thing up before throwing it down again with a horrified shudder. "How the hell did this scumbag get to be a foster parent?"

"I'm guessing he didn't show Family Services his S&M gear," I replied.

Cal squinted at me. "What's S&M?"

"Uh," I stalled. "Games grown-ups like to play when they're..."

"Screwing?" Cal offered.

I frowned at him. "Where'd you hear that word?"

"Mother dearest," Cal replied. "That's where I learned all my curse words."

I wasn't entirely surprised. "Well maybe you should—"

That's when the closet door was suddenly ripped open and I found myself being dragged out by my hair.

When I said Walter had a thing for blonds, he _really_ had a thing for blonds.

Like, pulling at it, tugging at it, chewing it, trying to rub himself against it.

I think I actually cried out in surprise, but I was a little hazy on the whole sequence of events, what with Walter slamming my head into the nearest wall. Repeatedly.

He was licking my neck between slams, and somehow he got me cuffed to the radiator again.

Next thing I knew, the world fizzed out to white then black, and when I came to my jeans were unfastened and halfway down my hips, as if he'd been interrupted before he could get to the main event.

I blinked, tried to figure out how far he'd gotten with me, panicked for a half second when I couldn't remember where I was, then finally realized I didn't know what had happened to Cal.

I tried to sit up, but the room spun in front of my eyes, and I had to close them again for a second, take a breath, swallow, and look again.

Cal was across the room, lying on his back on the floor.

Walter was on top of him.

I'm not sure what I screamed at him. Even to me, it didn't sound like English.

Cal looked over at me, and I swear to God, he looked relieved. Not that I might somehow be able to save him from what was undoubtedly about to happen to him; but because I wasn't dead.

In our world, sometimes not being dead was the best you could hope for.

"You touch him, I'll kill you!" I screamed at Walter, and if he thought I was exaggerating, he was very much mistaken.

He turned and looked at me, a massive, evil-ass grin on his face, before he bent down and licked Cal's face from chin to forehead.

I honestly thought I might be sick.

I'd read once that you could get out of handcuffs by dislocating your thumb.

If I'd known how to dislocate my thumb, I'd have done it.

As it was, I began frantically searching my pockets for my paperclip, until Walter turned and looked at me, something small and silver held up between thumb and forefinger.

"Looking for this?" he asked, his grin becoming so wide it was a wonder his face didn't split in two.

I swallowed the scream trying to make its way out of my throat, instead turning my attention to trying to kick the crap out of the radiator and dislodge the pipe he'd cuffed me to.

My efforts weren't entirely successful, and it was only when I heard Walter yell in pain, that I looked back to see what he was doing to Cal.

Or, rather, what Cal had done to him.

Who knew Cal had a second knife hidden in his sneaker? Certainly not me.

"Get off me, you sick fuckin' freak!" Cal spat, and I didn't even have it in me to chastise him for cursing.

Walter seemed to think being stuck with a penknife was absolutely hilarious, and he took the opportunity to backhand my little brother across the face so hard it was Cal's turn to black out.

"Cal?" I yelled, wincing as the skin around my wrist split and started bleeding as a result of my wildly tugging at the handcuffs in what I can only describe as a blind panic.

The bastard was going to force himself on my little brother. Right in front of me.

"Cal!" I yelled again, but Cal didn't answer, didn't open his eyes, and Walter carried right on trying to get his jeans unfastened, all the time grinning at me malevolently.

"Was all set to do you," he breathed, not even looking at Cal, "but realized it might be more fun to make you watch me do your little brother first." His grin became positively lecherous. "But don't worry, sweetheart," he added. "I'll get to you next."

That was when the window exploded.

I winced, trying to shield my eyes from the shower of flying glass with the one hand that wasn't restrained, blinking hard as something dark and shadowy darted in front of me.

And stopped.

I was staring into red eyes, so close I could hear it breathing, feel its breath on my neck.

Smell dead flesh on its breath.

It just stopped and looked at me for a second, before a voice like broken glass grit out, "Brother."

It didn't touch me, didn't try to hurt me, just stared at me.

And the next thing I knew, it was across the other side of the room, literally ripping Walter off of my little brother, flinging him down at my feet with a sickeningly wet thunk, and jumping on top of him in the same way he'd jumped on top of Cal.

I wasn't sure if this was the same Grendel I saw on top of my mother when I was four. But it sure wasn't happy with what Walter had been trying to do to Cal, whether it was Cal's father or not.

Walter never even got the chance to scream before the Grendel was ripping out his throat with his thousands of needle teeth.

He was still grinning at me, though. Dead eyes staring at me like he wanted to lick every inch of me.

I shuddered, despite being scared to move, scared to breathe, scared to do anything that might remind the Grendel I was still here, still alive.

Walter was a mewling pile of meat, muscle and sinew by this point, his blood sprayed liberally around the room: the carpet, the walls, the ceiling. Me.

The Grendel continued to rip and tear at him with teeth and claws until there wasn't much but bone fragments left, and although I couldn't see beyond him to where my brother had been lying, I fervently prayed that Cal was still unconscious and hadn't seen any of this.

Unfortunately, when the Grendel was done with Walter, it moved, and I could see Cal staring at it, wide-eyed, from the other side of the room.

The Grendel paused, glancing from Cal to me and back again, before suddenly it was right in front of me, claws knotted in my hair as it yanked back my head, needle teeth bared millimeters from my throat.

"No!" I heard Cal scream from across the room, but he could have been twenty miles away as all I could see, smell, hear, feel was the Grendel touching me.

"You kill him, I'll kill me!"

The Grendel stopped what it was doing, it's spiky-haired head darting back in the direction of my little brother.

Who had a jagged shard of glass pressed against his own throat.

"Cal!" I managed to yell, as the Grendel's hold on me at first tightened, and then gradually began to loosen.

It was crouching between us, it's blood-red eyes on Cal, one hand still twisted in my hair.

Cal continued to stand with the glass pressed to his own neck until a tiny smear of blood started to ooze from his skin.

The Grendel sniffed the air, just once.

Then it sniffed me.

And then it was gone, out the window the way it had arrived.

For a second neither of us moved, just stared at each other in wide-eyed, paralyzed horror.

Cal was still holding the glass to his throat.

I swallowed, tried to get my breathing under control, tried to remember the techniques I'd been learning at the dojo.

Failed spectacularly.

Couldn't even remember my name at that point.

But I remembered my brother's.

"Cal."

I'm not sure how my voice wasn't shaking as hard as the rest of me.

Cal blinked huge grey eyes at me.

"It's okay," I said, my voice unnaturally calm. "It's okay. You can put it down now."

Cal blinked at me again, as if he didn't understand what I was saying.

"The glass?"

He glanced down. His fingers were bleeding where the sharp edges had cut into them.

"Cal?"

Cal dropped the glass.

He didn't move for the longest time, but when he did, all he did was bend down and scoop something up off the blood-splattered floor.

He walked towards me slowly, his sneakers slipping in the blood, and held out his hand toward me.

Paperclip.

My hand was shaking as I took it from him wordlessly, not sure I'd be able to get the cuffs off, I was trembling so badly.

I managed it after a few seconds of struggling, the blood on my hands making everything slippery.

The click of the cuffs unlocking seemed too loud, the room too quiet, and once I was free I wasn't sure what to do.

Cal was staring at me soundlessly.

"Hey," I said carefully. "We're okay, little brother."

Cal continued to stare at me.

And then suddenly he was in my arms, crushed against me so hard I wasn't sure how either of us was breathing.

He was shaking as badly as I was.

"It's gonna be okay," I told him, not sure even I believed that.

"Monster," he whispered, his voice thick with tears.

"I know," I replied. "But that's not you. You're not a monster, Cal. You're not."

I didn't remember the last time Cal cried like that. We just clung on to each other until the worst of it was over.

Then he pulled away slightly, looked at me, and said calmly, "We need to go."

I couldn't disagree with him. I was covered in Walter's blood and I doubted very much the cops would believe a monster jumped through the window and eviscerated him.

I nodded, trying to stand, trying to pull Cal up with me. But my knees were shaking and I felt kind of dizzy, and by the time we were both upright, I wasn't sure which of us was holding the other up.

I yanked up my jeans, tried to fasten them without letting go of my brother.

"You need to change anyway," Cal told me, the calmness of his voice a little unnerving. "You have Walter all over you."

 _That_ was a thought I could have done without.

Our room was in the attic, and Cal half pushed, half dragged me up the stairs.

I could hear soft sobbing as we entered the room, opening the closet door to find our two little foster brothers huddled there.

They were brothers too, James and Joshua. James was six and had his arms wrapped around his little brother's shoulders. It was Joshua who was crying. He was three and clearly terrified.

I glanced from James to Cal and back again, straightening up and trying to sound a little less terrified myself. "It's okay," I told him. "You're safe now."

I held out my hand towards him, but James hesitated, and it was then I noticed how much I'd messed up my wrist trying to escape the cuffs. There was blood all over my hand and arm, and I was pretty sure not all of it was mine.

"Go clean up," Cal said. "You need to look less like a horror movie."

I took his advice, grabbing clean clothes out of the closet before ducking into the bathroom, where I washed as much blood off of me as I could.

When I was more or less presentable again, I went back into our bedroom, where Cal was now sitting cross-legged in front of the closet, where James and Joshua were still huddled, almost as if he was keeping guard.

"Hey." I reached out to James again, and he looked up at me before gingerly taking my hand. "Don't be scared. You're African princes, right? No one would dare hurt you."

It was their own little fantasy. Like Cal and I telling ourselves we were lions. Like Sadie and Bethany being princesses stolen from their parents by an evil witch.

We all coped with being alone in different ways.

I gradually managed to coax James out of the closet, and he pulled his little brother after him.

"There was a monster," he whispered, massive brown eyes welling with unshed tears.

I nodded. "It's gone now," I told him, seeing no point in lying to him. "We're going someplace safe."

James burrowed into my side and I hefted Joshua up onto my hip as Cal led the way out of the room.

We stopped at the bathroom on the next floor down, skirting around Walter's bedroom as quickly as we could.

I knocked on the door softly. "Sadie?" I said. "It's Niko. You can come out now."

There was a moment's hesitation before the door was opened cautiously, and Sadie peered out uncertainly.

She blinked at me. "Is it over?" she asked.

They'd heard.

They'd all heard.

I nodded. "We're leaving," I told her.

"Where are we going?" she asked, pulling Bethany in her wake.

"Someplace safe," I repeated.

We got outside via a window in the kitchen. I couldn't find the door keys. Walter had hidden them real good this time. Another of his little games. Corner me, let me think I was near an escape route, then shove me against a door I couldn't open while he tried to put his hands, tongue, or other parts of his anatomy on me.

I shuddered as I helped the other kids out through the window, part of me almost glad for what the Grendel had done to Walter.

It wasn't like he didn't deserve it.

Cal was the last one out. He glanced once behind him, back into the house, then set his expression into one of careful neutrality, like he didn't want to think about what had happened here ever again. "I don't think this foster-care thing is working out the way I planned," he observed.

I laughed at that, despite the incongruity of the sound. "No," I agreed. "So far we're oh for three."

"So what now?"

I nodded towards Walter's Chevy. "Someplace safe."

Walter was a creature of habit. He may have kept the house doors fastidiously locked so we couldn't get out, but he rarely did the same with his car.

I loaded the kids into the back seat and slid in front with Cal by my side.

It took me a second to hotwire the thing, but pretty soon we were on the road.

It took ten minutes to find the police station.

"Seriously?" Cal murmured uncertainly.

"Gotta trust the authorities sometime."

"Really?"

"Maybe just this once."

I pretty much abandoned the Chevy halfway on and halfway off the curb, ushering the kids out of the back seat and up the steps into the station.

It was a small town, a sheriff and a couple of deputies, and I knew that once inside, Cal and I would be heading for another group home, or worse.

I hesitated for a second.

Sadie was the oldest kid after me. She was eleven and pretty sassy, but she looked kind of terrified right now. I had Joshua up on my hip again, and I passed him to her wordlessly.

She looked up at me as she took him from me, and I could tell she knew what I was saying without my having to say it.

"Thanks," she murmured. "For not letting Walter..." She didn't need to finish her sentence.

I shrugged. "The cops will take care of you."

"What about you?"

I could see Cal looking at me out of the corner of my eye. "We need to go," I said.

Sadie nodded, catching hold of James' hand before turning to head into the police station.

Cal and I stood motionless outside for a good minute.

"Where do we go now?" he asked at length.

I honestly had no clue.

"You come with me."

It was a voice I'd not heard in six months; a voice I'd hoped never to hear again.

Sophia was standing at the bottom of the steps.

My first instinct was to run. Get away from her as quickly as we could.

But she'd find us.

She'd always find us.

How had she known we were here?

I didn't say anything to her, and neither did Cal.

I could feel him move closer to me.

"You're supposed to stay away from us," I managed eventually.

Our mother didn't reply immediately. "So are the—what's that cute name you two have for them?—the Grendels."

She didn't speak about them often, except when she was calling Cal a monster.

"Have you been watching us?"

"Enough to know that guy Walter _really_ wanted to get in your pants, honey."

She'd seen. She's _seen_ what that bastard was wanting to do to us and she hadn't done a single thing about it.

As if she'd read my thoughts, she added, "Who do you think sicced your Grendels on him?"

I didn't believe her. Didn't believe her for one second.

She shrugged and opened her car door. There were trunks and boxes piled high in back, and I knew she was moving on again.

"Who you running from this time?"

"The bastards who wanna lock me up because _you_ tried to cave my boyfriend's head in," she said.

"He was trying to _rape_ me."

"Yeah, well you should have _let_ him."

"What kind of mother even _says_ that to her kid?"

"I'm a survivor, kid. Sooner you realize that's the only option we got, the better."

It was making me angry just looking at her.

She inclined her head towards the car. "Get in."

When neither of us moved, she became slightly more insistent.

"Get the _fuck_ in this car right now."

"Or what?" Cal put in suddenly. "What are you going to do to us if we don't, _Mom_?"

Sophia fairly bristled. "Don't you _ever_ call me that, you little shit," she ground out. "Now get in the goddamn car."

Cal shook his head, stubbornly standing his ground, and Sophia started to climb the steps towards us.

"You think he can _save_ you?" she asked him, inclining her head in my direction. "You think the two of you are going off to your little apartment in New York City to live happily ever after?"

I glanced down at Cal and he frowned at me.

How did she even know about that?

"How many blowjobs do you think he'd have to give to make _that_ happen?"

Cal suddenly stepped in front of me. "He had an _actual_ job, unlike you!" he spat.

"You work with what God gives you," Sophia sneered.

"You think God gives a crap about you?" Cal demanded.

"You think He gives a crap about _you_?" Sophia returned.

Cal swallowed. "No I don't," he admitted, and it almost broke my heart to hear him say that. "But I think He gives a crap about Nik."

"Saint Niko," Sophia said. "Yeah, He _would_ give a crap about him."

"At least he's not a monster."

"Takes one to know one."

It was Cal's turn to bristle.

"Why would we go anywhere with you?" I took over.

"Because if you don't," Sophia was one step away from us, "your Grendels are going to come. And do you know what they're going to do?"

She was standing right in front of us, still taller than I was, looming over us like a particularly dark and stormy raincloud we could never get away from. She caught hold of my hair and yanked back my head before slashing one finger across my throat, her claw-like nail leaving a tiny trail of blood in its wake.

She bent closer to me, her mouth right next to my ear. "Brother."

She shoved me away from her then, turned on her heel and started to head back towards the car.

She clearly expected us to follow.

We didn't.

"We should run," I said quietly, the only course of action I could see for us.

Cal didn't reply immediately. "Do you really think the Grendels would kill you if she asked them to?"

I didn't know the answer to that. I wanted to believe she didn't really have that kind of influence over them. But she _was_ the mother of one of their children. And while she didn't give a crap about Cal, I believed she was scared of what they would do to her if she let anything happen to him.

Me?

I was an accident.

One booze-fueled night with some guy whose name she couldn't even remember.

She'd said once that she had half a mind to leave me by the curbside.

She'd tried to sell me a couple of times.

She'd _actually_ sold me more times than I could count.

Did I mean any more to her than her half-Grendel offspring? Did I mean any less? She had no reason to keep me around, no reason at all. Except to look out for Cal. For her. For the Grendels. To make money for her. Cook for her. Clean for her.

I wasn't her son; I was her slave.

I wanted to run.

But I knew she'd never let me.

I knew the Grendels would never let me.

Not with Cal.

And I wasn't leaving him.

Not ever.

I took a breath and grabbed hold of Cal's hand.

"C'mon, kiddo," I said, slowly following our mother to her car. "I think there's a trailer park and a closet with our name on it."

* * *

"You can come out now."

The closet door opened, and Robin stuck his hand in toward us.

He was naked, save for a silk sheet wrapped loosely around his hips, and a completely blissed-out expression on his rosy face.

I hesitated.

There had been more occasions in my life than I really cared to contemplate when half-naked men had pulled me from closets, I suddenly realized.

I _really_ hated closets.

Cal took the proffered hand instead, allowing Robin to pull him out into his bedroom, where my little brother stretched, his back making a disturbing popping sound.

When I didn't move, Robin frowned and stuck his head in toward me.

"Are you coming out any time soon?" he asked. "Or is your reluctance to leave this closet a symptom of being trapped in some other more metaphorical closet, as I always suspected?"

I didn't reply to that. Just scowled at him. Like it was our usual banter, our usual dance. Like all the other times he'd made ridiculously unsubtle advances toward me.

Like it didn't bother me, any of it. My past. The things I'd done. The things I'd had done to me. Like hiding out in a closet didn't freak me out because of all the associated memories it dredged up.

Did Cal know? Did he remember? Some of it, sure. Walter he remembered. Randy? Marek? All of the others? So many of them. Things that happened to me before Cal was even born.

Some of those things were hazy, even to me.

If I thought too hard about it, I'd hate Sophia even more than I already did.

Mostly, I told myself, I hated her for Cal.

But if I thought too hard about it, I'd hate her for myself even more.

I blinked up at Robin. He was still holding out a hand to me.

I was a lion, I told myself. A lion. And lions didn't hide out in closets.

I allowed Robin to pull me into his bedroom, at which point the sheet slipped from around his hips, accidentally on purpose if you asked my opinion.

"Whoops," he said, pretending to blush, but not rushing to cover his far, far more than adequately-sized modesty. "How on earth did that happen..."

I shook my head at him, prized my hand out of his, and let the tried and trusted Grown-Up Niko facade fall stonily back into place.

I was a lion.

Nothing bothered me.

I glanced at Cal and he smiled softly at me.

I guess he knew better.

 **The End**

* * *

Thanks for reading!


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